


Make the Yuletide Gay

by livvywritesgay (livvywrites)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (he is always beautiful), Christmas fic, Fluff, I think that's it - Freeform, Kid!Fic, M/M, Mpreg, also liam and niall are in it for like a second, and love each other so much, as are harry and louis' families, as in angry, because christmas, because in my head pregnant harry is beautiful, but that's over quick, harry and louis have a kid and another on the way, harry gets hormonal, harry is pregnant, implied bottom!harry, they are happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:20:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5409737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livvywrites/pseuds/livvywritesgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>these are the four weeks of december with the tomlinsons. harry and louis are married and in love with a daughter and another baby on the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make the Yuletide Gay

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back. i don't know if anyone know who i am or if anyone has missed me but i am back and this time writing gay fiction, which is what i live for. 
> 
> thank you so much to [diana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/francescaberlin/pseuds/francescaberlin) for betaing this piece and to [nourhan](http://menlovesharry.tumblr.com/) for cheering me on!
> 
> the title is from the christmas song "have yourself a merry little christmas", which is my absolute favourite christmas song (especially the ella fitzgerald version). 
> 
> as i'm sure you all know, i don't own any of the characters, other than the original characters. 
> 
> please leave kudos or comments if you like this, [this](http://pushingpaceis.tumblr.com) is my tumblr and i would love to hear from you! 
> 
> all the love .x

_First Week of December_

The snow starts falling the first weekend of December. The snowflakes trail down slowly, gently as ever and lays down like a makeshift blanket over the wilted flowers. She is sitting by the window, quietly watching, aware of the late hour her fathers surely would tell her off for being awake at. She cannot help herself, however, she has loved snow her whole short life – the way that everything becomes quiet and bright in the dark winter days.

She exhales on the window and draws a heart with the tip of her index finger. It ends up a little lopsided – she has just started to get the hang of it, has been practising with her daddy and in primary school. She does not know how long she sits there, watching transfixed, but suddenly there is a hand on her shoulder. She jumps and turns around, blushing immediately when she sees her father’s face.   
 “What exactly are you doing up at this hour, little one? Bedtime was a long time ago.” His voice is stern, but his eyes are kind and he is smiling, too, so she knows he is not truly upset with her.  
 “But Papa, it’s snowing, look!” she says excitedly, turning back to the window and points to make sure her Papa will not miss it. He chuckles quietly and strokes her hair before lifting her up and carrying her back to the bed.  
 “I know sweetheart,” he says as he tucks her in. “But still, you shouldn’t be up. If the snow sticks, we can build a snowman tomorrow. How does that sound?”  
 “Daddy too?” she asks through a yawn. He smiles and nods.  
 “Daddy too. And I bet that if we ask nicely, he’ll make us some hot cocoa as well.”  
Her tired little face lights up with excitement and he has to ask her to lie down again so she can go back to sleep. It takes more promises about tomorrow and a lullaby to calm her down for her to fall asleep again. He leaves the door slightly ajar when he slips out of the room, comforted by the sight of his daughter sleeping soundly surrounded by too many stuffed animals.

 “What took so long? Was starting to miss you.” He looks up after closing the door behind him, leaving also this slightly ajar in case of nightmares or early risings and sees his husband leaning against the headboard, pregnant belly proudly displayed.  
 “Well,” he sighs, “our daughter thought it would be nice to get up and watch the snow.” With some help from his husband, he pulls down the covers and slides in next to his love, who laughs sleepily.  
 “Like father, like daughter, huh Lou?” Louis reaches over to put a hand on Harry’s belly, joining his own there.  
 “She made me promise we would all build a snowman tomorrow, so be prepared for that.”  
 Harry only smiles and leans over to kiss his husband’s cheek gently. “Of course you did.”  
 “How’s this little one? Still having a dance-off?” Louis asks, rubbing his hand on Harry’s belly, trying to soothe the baby to sleep.  
 “It’s not so bad now, they’ve calmed down a bit. They probably want their Papa to sing them to sleep,” Harry tries cheekily.

Louis sees right through him. Sure, their baby calms down when they hear him sing, both of their children do, but Harry enjoys it the most. Louis singing is what calms him down after a hectic day, after too many five year olds screaming and running around like crazy in the small classroom. It is what soothes him when he is sad, when he is stressed, when he is feeling like shit. Louis relents (like always, he cannot say no to either of his babies) and they both shift around so they’re spooning, Harry’s back pressed to Louis’ chest. Arms reach out to put the lights out and come to cuddle Harry protectively. Fingers splay out on the underside of his large belly, lifting it and taking off some weight off of him, thumb rubbing circles into the skin.  
Louis starts off humming the notes of the song he started writing for their baby, increasing slightly in volume as he starts singing the words. Harry closes his eyes and smiles, content in his husband’s arms cuddling him and content with his voice singing quietly in his ear. He loves moments like these, moments when he feels Louis’ love for him and their family radiating from his body like heat from the sun. Harry’s libido has increased largely during his pregnancy (much like his last one) and more often than not, their nights end with orgasms and pliant bodies, but tonight it won’t.

Harry falls asleep to his husband’s song, a promise of forever in his words. Tomorrow their little family will bundle up in jackets and scarves and hats and play in the snow, but for now he sighs contentedly and mumbles out an _I love you_ , hearing it repeated to him before he falls asleep, fingers laced together over their baby.

 

_Second Week of December_

Huffing, Harry rips off his hat and unzips his winter coat. It is too hot in the shops, too hot for being 35 weeks pregnant in December when the heating is put on high and the shops are filled with people bundled up hurrying around to find perfect Christmas presents for their loved ones.  
 His feet ache and his back hurt and he would really love to sit down for a while, but he cannot because there is no place for him to sit and he promised Louis he would stay put when he went to the till to pay for their things. He shifts from one leg to the other, wishing for Louis to hurry up so they can go have lunch. He is far more than just a little annoyed when he sees Louis walking toward him, bags in hand and a smile on his lips.  
 “You’ve been gone for ages. How long does it take to pay for stupid Christmas gifts?” He hears his snappy tone but he does not care. He is pregnant and hungry and too hot and he hates being left alone for long, especially in busy shopping centres. Having been married forever and together even longer, Louis is used to Harry getting cranky when hungry. So he goes for a gentle tone, explaining that the queue was long because everyone else has decided this was a perfect day for Christmas shopping. Harry huffs again and starts walking toward the shop’s exit without waiting for Louis. It does not take long, however, for Louis to catch up.  
 “Baby, darling, I know you’re uncomfortable, but I told you you’d be better off staying at home resting,” Louis pleads gently.  
Harry turns his head around so fast with a glare so harsh Louis winces. “And let you shop all the gifts yourself? You suck at gift shopping, you would probably have come home with a boring piece of clay for Grace if I stayed home.”

It is not fair, Louis is great at shopping for presents and Harry knows it, has been on the receiving end multiple times and loved every single one of his gifts. But he will not let Louis think all Harry is capable of nowadays is staying at home, lying in bed all day. He is pregnant, not an invalid. Louis sighs, resisting rolling his eyes, knowing Harry would get even more upset with him if he did. This pregnancy has made Harry moodier than the last one, hormones making his mood go up and down several times during the day. Luckily, he has already stopped working to avoid stress and making the contractions start early and he has never once snapped at Grace. Unfortunately for Louis, that means all Harry’s pent up anger and mood swings are let out on him – one minute he is Harry’s punching bag and the next he has to hug Harry as hard as he can to soothe his tears and letting him know that _I know you’re sorry_ and _I’m not mad, I promise_. Like today, when Harry has been annoyed with Louis all morning for suggesting he could drop Grace off at her friend’s and do all the Christmas shopping himself and let Harry stay home to relax. But, as predicted, Harry would not have any of it and insisted that he was coming with.    
 “Have you any ideas for what we should get Gracie?” Louis asked when they had sat down with their sandwiches. Harry takes a bite of his sandwich, closing his eyes at how good it tastes and takes his time chewing and swallowing before nodding his head.  
 “She’s been asking for a doll,” he says, sticking out his tongue to lick away some dressing at the corner of his mouth. “Said she wanted a baby just like me.” Louis hums his agreement, handing over a napkin to his husband before he manages to get dressing all over his jumper. 

They pick up Grace at her friend’s before driving home. She sits in the backseat babbling on about her day, talking a mile a minute.  
 “And, and then! Then we made snow angels in the garden! They were beautiful. Can we do snow angels in our garden, please?” She bounced in her seat and had her hands clasped together in front of her. “Please, Daddy.” Harry laughed, bad mood long gone and forgotten.  
 “I’m sorry, I can’t with the baby, darling. But Papa will do it with you.” He twists in the passenger seat to look at their daughter. “He is an expert in making snow angels, I can promise you that.”

So it is decided. Grace does not even bother taking off her outdoor clothes before running through the house with snowy boots on, leaving a trail of dirty water after her as she makes way to the door back out to their garden.  
 “Hurry, Papa, before Daddy changes his mind and makes us have a bath!”

 

_Third Week of December_

To be completely honest, Louis had expected whining from both of his babies. It is below zero out and it is snowing again, but Harry and Grace have not said a word about how cold it is. Instead, they are standing by the fire drinking hot cocoa with Niall’s and Liam’s wives and children, cooing over the new Payne puppy.  
 “Come on Lou, if you think we’re gonna cut down your tree for you, you gotta think again because I’m sweating like a pig already,” Niall calls from underneath the lower branches on a tree nearby. Harry looks over at them then, winking at him and mouthing at him to get to work.  
Louis shakes his head at him and grabs the axe from next to him and lifts the lower branches to start chop down the tree Harry had carefully picked out for their home. It was a large one and had a thick trunk and while Niall and Liam had finished chopping down theirs, Louis was only halfway through. He heard footsteps crunching the snow and paused, straightening up and adjusting the beanie on his head.  
 “How’s it going?” Harry is standing in front of him, holding out a cup of mulled wine.  
 “You had to go pick the thickest tree in England, didn’t you?” he says after a cough, accepting the plastic cup and chugging it down in one go, ignoring the burning sensation on his tongue. Harry watches him with amusement as he winces.  
 “You need to hurry up. We’re all hungry and waiting for you to go home. I invited everyone for dinner.” Louis tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, grumbles something along the lines of _Next year, nobody better be pregnant for this_ as he leans down again to finish off what he started.   

The house is loud – the children are running around laughing and playing with each other while Harry has banished the adults to the living room to enjoy more mulled wine and each other’s company. It’s hectic, cooking for twelve, but Harry loves it. He loves having people over and playing the good host, setting the table nicely and cooking delicious dinners with recipes from his and Louis’ mothers and grandmothers. He likes sitting down to a table and getting showered with praise.

He’s standing in front of the stove with his phone plugged into the portable speaker, singing along quietly to the Christmas songs and swaying back and forth as well as he can with his big belly in the way. He is putting the roast in the oven when he hears small feet come pattering on the kitchen tiles. With a hand under his belly he stands up and smiles when he sees little Grace standing next to the cooker. “Hello my love. What are you doing in here?”  
She tugs on the hem of her jumper and stands on her tiptoes to try and peek in the pot on the stove. “Whatcha making Daddy?”  
 “Chicken roast and mashed potatoes. Do you wanna help me finish up?” She nods and releases her jumper to itch her nose.  
 “Go get your stool and apron then,” he says and lifts the lid of the mashed potatoes to stir as she runs away to get her things. She is always running, his little girl, always have to be in the midst of things and preferably before everyone else, just like her Papa.  
Harry smiles and helps Grace up on her stool so she does not trip and fall, handing the spatula to her. “You need to stir this so it doesn’t burn and get stuck at the bottom, alright Gracie? If you do that, I’ll go over here and get the salad. Be careful so you don’t burn yourself, okay sweetheart?”  
 “Yes, Daddy,” she says obediently and furrows her eyebrows in concentration as she begins to stir the potatoes. She helps him bring out the salad on the table where everyone is waiting, hungry and ready for their meal after a long day outside.  
Louis rises from his chair immediately and orders Harry to sit down as he walks into the kitchen to bring the rest of the meal out. The children get served first to prevent any tantrums and Harry sits in his seat with both hands on his belly, one of them supporting the weight and the other rubbing lovingly on the side. 

He sits there, watching his friends and family laugh and talk and eat. He watches as Miriam dodges Niall’s arm without blinking when he starts to gesticulate his arms in tune with his story, he watches Liam putting his arm on the back of Ruby’s chair and how she leans closer to him. And he watches his husband, his beautiful, beautiful husband laughing at Niall’s crazy anecdote.

His eyes finally fall on Grace, his precious Grace, with eyes like her Papa and curls like himself. He never thought he could love another person more than he loved Louis, but boy had he been wrong. She is his everything and he would absolutely do anything for her in a heartbeat. He loves how smart she is, how quickly she picks up on his and Louis’ moods, how good she is at making them feel better with just a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He loves how good of a person she is, how much she loves everyone around her. He sees so much of both Louis and himself in her and cannot help but hope that the baby inside of him this very minute will grow up just like their sister. He cannot wait for them to come out, of course, but he is also so, so content with what he has now.

 

_Fourth Week of December_

He wakes up to whispering.  
 “Papa,” Grace whispers and pokes his cheek. “Papa, wake up, please.” He does not quite open his eyes yet, only stirs and tries to get his face away from the persistent poking.  
 “Papa,” she whispers with more force. “Papa, come on. It’s Christmas now.” He makes an effort to open his eyes and blinks tiredly, seeing Grace’ face very close to his own.  
 “What time is it baby?” he mumbles.  
 “It says a six and a three and a zero, Papa.” Half six then, not too bad actually. A vast improvement from the year before when she had woken them up at five a.m. He closes his eyes again, charging up to wake up for real. He wonders how long Grace has been awake for and why she has been waiting so long for coming in and wake them up.  
 “Why didn’t you wake Daddy up?” he asks quietly, voice still laced with sleep, as he finds a jumper in the drawers that he puts on. Grace gives him a look.  
 “Because he’s _sleeping_ Papa,” she says like it is the most obvious thing in the world. And she is not wrong, Harry is sleeping, but so was Louis and bites back a laugh not to wake Harry up.

They walk down the stairs, Grace on Louis’ hip because even though she is five ( _almost six Papa!_ ), she is still his little baby and he will carry her for as long as she wants to. They decide on waiting to open the presents for when Harry wakes up because that is what families does and Louis tells Grace to choose a film they can watch while he prepares some hot cocoa for them. He comes back to the living room with two steaming mugs in his hands and smiles when he sees what film she has chosen – _Cinderella._    
It never fails, this is Grace’ go to film, her favourite film of all time, she claims. In fact, when she was four years old, she insisted they would call her Cinderella for a whole week before they introduced _Sleeping Beauty_ to her and she would sleep in their bed for two weeks because she kept waking up from nightmares about Maleficent turning into a dragon and kidnapping her from her fathers. They have never claimed to be excellent parents.  
Grace demands a back scratch from her Papa as soon as the film starts, so he settles down behind her on their sofa, letting his fingers trail up and down her back. Harry finds them in the same position an hour later, Grace’ eyes glued on the telly where Cinderella and her prince just have gotten married and Louis snoring softly behind her. 

They open their gifts while eating breakfast in the living room, a tradition they have kept up since Grace was born. Harry cringes when Grace eat the syrupy gingerbread pancakes with her hands and then uses the same hand to hand over a gift to him.  
 “This is from me, Daddy!” Harry grins.  
 “What? For me? That’s very nice of you Gracie,” he says and presses a kiss to her cheek before ripping up the paper. He tears up when he sees what she’s made him.  
 “Did you make this, darling?” Grace nods and scrambles up from her knees to run behind him and point at the drawing.  
 “This is Papa,” she says pointing at the blue doodle. “And this is you and my little sister or brother.” Harry lets out a chuckle. She has drawn him in a nice green colour and made a circle, which he presumes is his pregnant belly, and has drawn a red heart next to it.  
 “Is this you then?” he asks, pointing at the smaller pink doodle between himself and Louis.  
 “Yes. Look, we’re holding hands!” Harry twists his head to look at his daughter then, grinning widely.  
 “I can see that. Thank you very much, my darling. This is my favourite gift.” Grace beams back at him and gives him a loud (and syrupy) kiss right on the mouth. They open the rest of their presents as they finish their breakfast and Grace squeals of happiness each time she opens a new gift.  
  
Their families arrive sometime after two o’ clock. They all happen to come at the same time and when Louis opens the door, he does so to a chorus of _Happy Christmas_ ’s and hardly gets the chance to back away from the door before he gets squished into hugs from every angle.  
 “Happy belated birthday Lou, here’s your gift! It’s from all of us,” one of his sisters say when everyone has taken their shoes and coats and hats and scarves off. He accepts the box from her and waves them inside the house.

Both of their mothers immediately starts gushing about the decorations and _how nice Harry has done it this year, he really should think about switching careers!_ They all end up in the living room, patiently watching Grace’ little show where she present all her new toys and clothes. Of course, many of the gifts where from her grandparents and aunts and uncle, but she loves being in the centre of the attention, loves performing and putting on shows for her family. Gemma sneaks out to her little brother in the kitchen when Grace is busy handing out drawings she has made especially for everyone, all Christmas themed of course.  
 “Hey baby bro, why are you hiding in the kitchen for?” Harry looks up from the kitchen table, putting the spritz bag next to the large cake in front of him.  
 “Someone has to fix dinner for all you lunatics out there.” There is no venom behind his words, only love and fondness.  
Gemma rolled her eyes and sat down on the chair opposite him. “We all brought something, don’t be such a drama queen.”  
Harry goes back to icing the cake, tongue poking out slightly from the corner of his mouth. “Do you want a drink?” he asks without looking at her. “I bought some of that wine you love.”  
His sister clears her throat and shifts awkwardly in her chair. “No thank you.”  
Her reply makes Harry look up again. “No?” he scoffs. “What’s the matter, you pregnant or something?” He means it like a joke. He knows he can do that now, that Gemma has come a long way since she got the news that she cannot get pregnant.  
 “Yes. I am.” Harry feels himself gaping at her and quickly shuts his mouth.  
 “No! Are you serious?” Gemma breaks out in a grin.  
 “Yeah, twelve weeks.”  
Harry drops the icing bag again and pushes out his chair the best he can. “But how?”  
 “You know how they say that after you’ve adopted and stop trying it just happens?” He sees tears in her eyes, happy tears, and cannot help but feel wetness in his eyes as well. “That’s what happened. It just happened.”  
Harry gets up from his chair and walks around the table, motioning for Gemma to get up so he can give her the tightest hug he can manage. They stay there for a long couple of minutes, giggling and crying together. “I’m so happy for you, Gems,” he says wetly and kisses her on the cheek. “Congratulations.” 

They have to split up for their Christmas dinner, since 24 people are far too many to fit around Harry and Louis’ dinner table. They have set the table for the seven children in the kitchen; have let Grace decide on the colour scheme, which ended up being a not so festive pink and gold. In the dining room, however, the Tomlinson’s have gone all out. The tablecloth is a deep red, almost burgundy, and Harry has managed to find the time between cleaning their whole house and cooking dinner to weave together a nice garland of Christmas tree branches and pinecones. Everything matches together perfectly, with the rich red, green and white contrasts. They sit there for a long time, catching up and asking about plans for New Years.

Harry thrives in the company, has always loved being surrounded by lots and lots of people. He remembers meeting Louis’ large family for the first time, fifteen years ago next year. Coming from a relatively small family, Harry immediately fell in love with the loud ruckus in the Tomlinson household, deciding then and there that if he were to marry Louis, they would have a large family of their own. He does not realise the time, until he feels Grace tug on his arm, begging to come sit on his lap. It is only when she is tired she forgets that Harry’s belly is too big to cuddle. He leans down to whisper in her ear, making sure she hears over the loud conversations at the dinner table.  
 “Go tell Papa you’ll help him putting on coffee and the kettle and I make sure everyone comes to the living room so we can cuddle, alright?” Grace nods and yawns so big she surprises both Harry and herself, giggling as she runs over to her Papa to tell him about Daddy’s plans.

They spend New Years Eve just the three of them. Four, actually, if you count the baby. Which, of course they do. Harry and Louis let Grace dress up in her prettiest party dress and Harry even sprays glitter spray in her hair. They have had a hectic Christmas and they want to spend the end of the year together in peace. So Harry whips up a delicious pasta dish and they celebrate with non-alcoholic champagne. Louis lights the fire in the living room and they sit down in the sofa, get cosy with blankets and pillows and put on _Love, Actually_ ,on Harry’s persistence. It is a nice, quiet night.  
Soft cries of happiness from outside are heard through the kitchen window that is left ajar. Harry cuddles closer to Louis and nuzzles his face into the skin between his neck and shoulder. Grace has fallen asleep on the floor in front of the telly, pyjamas and brushed teeth forgotten about.  
 “Happy New Year, husband,” Louis whispers into Harry’s hair and presses a kiss there. He feels Harry smile into his skin and Harry hugs him closer.  
 “Happy New Year, husband. I love you.”

Harry gets up from his comfortable, comfortable position when Louis nudges him and cannot help but pout, just a little. He blows out the candles and re-folds the blanket, sticking out his tongue at Louis’ whispered _neat freak_ , as Louis bends down to pick up Grace from the floor. She wakes up slightly at the movement and wraps her arms tight around her father’s neck, cuddling closer. Harry follows them up the stairs with Grace’ pillow and duvet in his hands. Together, they make sure Grace is ready for bed – getting her out of her dress, pull down the curtains and lighting her nightlight. She lets out a satisfied sigh when they have tucked her in properly and cuddles into her teddy bear. Harry and Louis both stand in the doorway for a short while, watching their daughter sleeping soundly.  
 “Look at her,” Harry murmurs and turns his head to make eye contact with Louis, who smiles back.  
 “I know. We did good. And this little one will be good as well.” He brings his hand down to rub at Harry’s belly lovingly, inching closer and captures Harry’s bottom lip between his own. Harry sighs happily into the kiss and responds by kissing Louis harder, grabbing his hips to pull him closer, impossibly closer for a pregnant man.  
 “Lou, Lou,” Harry whispers between kisses. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? I want—I need—“

Louis is already in the process of moving the two of them to their bedroom. “Yeah?” he asks. “What do you need, darling?” He pushes Harry through the door, running his hands all over his body as they walk together towards their big bed. As Harry sits down on the edge, he runs his hands up under Louis’ soft t-shirt and pulls it up a bit, leaning forward to press wet kisses right above his waistband.  
 “I just want you”, Harry says and who is Louis to deny his love?

They spoon up against each other afterward, happy and sated from orgasms.  
 “Hey, Lou?” Harry says quietly, shifting his whole body to get comfortable, cuddling closer to Louis’ chest. Louis only hums in response, far too tired to speak aloud. His eyes are closed and it would only be a matter of seconds before he falls asleep, should Harry not talk to him at two am.  
 “Thank you for being you,” Harry mumbles, sounding close to sleep himself as well. “I love you tons. Like, a lot.” Louis smiles at that, a sleepy upturn of his lips.  
 “You too, sweetheart. I love you very much, too.”


End file.
